


After

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, M/M, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is painful, every waking moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After

It is the first day.

It is the first day After and Sherlock’s knees are drawn up to his chest, his arms tucked close under the oatmeal colored jumper that is and will always be John’s. The sleeves hang loose against him as he contemplates the place where John would be if he were alive. But he isn’t. Therefore, he is not there.

(And to think he dislikes obvious people.)

Mrs. Hudson knocks on the door. He knows it’s Mrs. Hudson because it’s a quiet knock. He slides his arms through John’s sleeves and is surprised to note that the fabric actually does touch his wrist. He had been certain that it wouldn’t make it that far.

“Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock says, holding the door open and ignoring the look she presented him with. It is probably the jumper.

“Sherlock, dear, I am so sorry.” And she is. She is sorry for her and for him and everyone else that John had touched and loved.

“As am I,” he replies and she takes a step back and Sherlock shuts the door.

He folds himself back on the couch, sliding his arms back through the sleeves and tucking them once more against his stomach. The sleeves hang loosely at his sides. And he contemplates the place where John would be sitting if he were alive. But he isn’t.

Therefore, he is not there.

-

It is the end of the first week.

It is the end of the first week After and Sherlock wobbles the drink in front of him, watching the amber liquid slosh up and down the sides of the bottle, Lestrade sitting next to him and talking about things that Sherlock could certainly deduce for himself.

But he listens. Because it is Lestrade and he only wants what’s best for him now that John is gone. He had, of course, expected Lestrade to begin avoiding him under the premise that it is in fact Sherlock’s fault that John is dead. He had died absorbing the bullet that had been meant for the detective instead.

The Sherlock of Before would have thought _he chose his own destiny, of course._ But the Sherlock of During and After thinks _what could I have done differently to save his life?_

Lestrade taps his pint against Sherlock’s bottle and they drink until they’re stupid because that’s easy. And Sherlock would rather enjoy being stupid for the first any only time in his life.

-

It is the end of the first month.

It is the end of the first month After and Donovan and Anderson have taken to looking at Sherlock like he is a little bit on this side of crazy. It could quite possibly be because he has taken to talking to John at the crime scenes he goes to. He doesn’t see how that makes him any less stable than Before. Before, he would talk to a skull.

But they still keep even more distance than Before. Which is excellent, in it’s own way.

However, during this first month of After, Sherlock has been to relatively few crime scenes. He will find that early in the morning, the only photo of himself and John will be staring at him with smiles and all sorts of other things, and Lestrade will call.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock will actually pick up and say, “I cannot compartmentalize today and therefore am too emotionally compromised to assist you.”

“That’s fine,” Lestrade will reply. And that will be the end of it.

Today isn’t one of those days, thank goodness, because this case is absolutely scintillating and John is invaluable in this particular murder.

But, then again, he has always been and always will be invaluable.

-

It has been one year.

It has been one year since After began and Sherlock is sitting with Mycroft in the living room of 221B. Mycroft is in Sherlock’s chair while Sherlock is on the sofa, tucked into another one of John’s jumpers.

“I had imagined you would revert, admittedly, Sherlock,” Mycroft slips into the silence.

“I had imagined so, as well.” Sherlock’s eyes slide from Mycroft to the empty chair where John-from-Sherlock’s-mind sits even now. “However, that would mean that John had no impact on my life.”

“Pardon?” Mycroft raises a brow. And these are the things in which both of them are particularly dense. Sentiment and feeling.

“If I were to go back to being myself Before John,” and he inflects Before so the capital letter is irrefutable, “then that would mean that he was nothing. That my life had not changed in any significant way. It would be as if he were never here and that those years of my life he did influence never happened. His place in my life were and are not just footprints in sand, Mycroft. Forgetting him is not an option. It is an unacceptable outcome.”

Mycroft is silent for a long moment before he says, “I am proud of you, Sherlock.” He thinks of all the times he could have had cocaine in this past year. Thinks of all the times he wanted to get some. And then he nods, burrowing deeper into his beloved’s jumper.

“Me too.”

-

It is the first decade After.

Actually, it is the first and _last_ decade After, because Sherlock is bleeding out all over an alley in downtown London. Not an intended effect of this particular chase, but it had occurred nonetheless. He isn’t as fast as he used to be, after all, and his mind had been divided between pursing the suspect and bouncing ideas off of John.

Admittedly, he had been foolish.

“Look at what you’ve done, Sherlock,” John tuts, holding out his hand, bright and young and looking just as he had ten years ago. “Ruined one of my favorite articles of clothing. What a wanker you are sometimes, you know?” He had almost forgotten he had left the flat in one of John’s jumpers this morning.

Sherlock takes John hand, noting the peeling sensation as he is stripped away from physical feeling. _How odd, this needs further study—_

Stop thinking. “I am sorry I took so long to reach you.”

“Oh, no rush. I would have hated you if you had. Besides, I would have missed the beach metaphor.” John grins and tugs him close, pulling his head down with his other hand and kissing Sherlock senseless.

Dying doesn’t diminish those as it happens.

Further study of that is also required.


End file.
